Heir of a King
by Threthiel
Summary: The story of Gilgalad's historically unrecorded daughter, Argalen.
1. The Grey Havens

It was an overcast day, grey and cloudy, on the western shores of Middle- earth. There was a strong wind blowing, and the cries of many gulls filled the air, as numerous ships sat afloat in the harbour, at different stages of their building, including one which was being prepared for its voyage into the West, within the fortnight. This was the Grey Havens in Lindon, the place of the Elves' last departure from Middle-earth, back into the Blessed Realm of Valinor; in the year 3008 of the Third Age.  
  
Up on a balcony stood an Elf, Argalen, overlooking the progress going on down below. Years had she longed to sail o'er the Sundering Seas, leaving Middle-earth and all its worries behind, but something had kept holding her back. She had spent many a year at the Havens with Círdan the Shipwright, just as her father had done, Gil-galad Ereinion, last High King of the Noldor in Middle-earth.  
  
She had never known her father. Being the Noldorin High King came with certain responsibilities, so naturally, once Sauron and his forces re- arose late into the Second Age, it was largely her father's duty to head the opposition. Of all the brave Elves and Men who died in that war few were given as much reverence as Gil-galad, who fell in combat with the Enemy while defending Elendil, descendant of Elros Tar-Minyatur.  
  
She closed her eyes and imagined her mother's reaction when, years later, Elrond, Herald to the King, returned to Imladris bringing with him those ill tidings. It was so long ago. The grief was too much for her to bear, and after only a week of mourning it overcame her, and she died, her soul passing West, into the Halls of Waiting.  
  
In a virtually undying race it would seem odd to having only a single parent, although she was the exception, an extremely rare orphan. All through her youth she had been raised out of the kindness of others hearts, and as she came of age she remained loyal to those who had cared for her, and continued to stay with each.  
  
She breathed in the heavy salt air and opened her eyes, once more gazing out onto the docks. Standing near one of the ships was an older Elf, going over a checklist he held in his hand. At that moment he looked up, and caught Argalen's gaze. He motioned for her to meet him inside.  
  
* * *  
  
As she made her way to the library, where those talks were usually held, she began to look back on her life there, wondering how many times she had walked through those halls. A great deal of her life had been spent in the Havens, and the past few years had been exceedingly hard on her, as the Sea-longing was growing. She hoped to set sail soon, and maybe this would be her chance.  
  
She walked through the archway leading into the room, and saw him sitting at a desk, writing down information in a log concerning the next departure. "You wished to speak with me, Círdan?"  
  
"Argalen," he said, turning around to face her. He was old, even by Elf standards. His grey hair reflected the sea water, and his long beard showed the love he held for those western coasts. But his eyes are what always caught her attention. Their colour echoed that of his hair, but there was a sadness in them. He had stayed by those shores for ages, watching much of his kindred take that final step towards the Undying Lands, never to return, while his love of Middle-earth caused him to remain in Mithlond, until the last ship set sail. He had seen much in those many years, and would see even more before his time would come. He gazed at her, with a deep look in his eyes. "How long has it been since you last arrived here?"  
  
"It's been 57 years now, since I came back," she replied, walking up to him and leaning on a nearby stool.  
  
"The time passes so quickly when you are here." He paused, searching her face with his eyes. Placing his hand on her shoulder, he continued. "You remind me so much of your parents. In you I see the strength of your father," his face softened, "and the beauty of your mother. You are like a granddaughter to me."  
  
"And you are like a grandfather to me," she said. "But I must know: Why was I summoned down here?"  
  
He then stood, and his height showed his strength, through his old age. "I know how much it means to you, to one day be able to sail West, in hopes of someday seeing your parents." He started slowly across the floor. "Yet, I sense that should not come, for a time, at least."  
  
She looked up at him. "What do you mean?"  
  
"Nothing," he sighed. "But, I do have a task for you. I need a message delivered to the Lord Celeborn and the Lady Galadriel, which means you must go to Lórien."  
  
"The Lord and Lady," she said to herself, trying to figure out where this would all lead to in the end. "Am I to travel to Lothlórien by myself?"  
  
"Of course not," he replied. "Galdor will accompany you." He stopped short, as if noticing that something was wrong, and saw slight tears starting to well-up at the corners of her eyes. "My child, what is it?"  
  
"Nothing... Only-"  
  
"Do not worry, Argalen. I have a feeling that you will meet your destiny, and one day very soon. I can tell."  
  
"I hope you're right, Círdan." She rose from her seat, and walked towards him, and the two embraced each other for a long time.  
  
* * *  
  
Rather than travel by horseback, it was decided that it would be best if Galdor and Argalen rode upon one of the smaller messenger ships, which was already scheduled to run an errand to Dol Amroth, and from there the two would sail up the Anduin until they came to the Golden Wood. The preparations were completed a week later, and they were ready to cast off.  
  
* * *  
  
When the time of their departure came, Círdan went to fetch Argalen, finding her in her chambers packing a few essentials. He didn't say anything at first, just watched her hurry about preparing her things. When he chose long ago to remain at the Havens he knew it would lead to a life spent in loneliness, but he was willing to make that sacrifice. Then Argalen came, and as time passed the bond between the two grew. She was the closest thing he had to a family, and he loved her dearly.  
  
After a few moments, Argalen turned to a window which looked out into the West, and, without formally acknowledging his presence, spoke to Círdan.  
  
"What will my fate be?" she asked.  
  
The aged Elf sighed, and entered the room, walking towards Argalen. "That, my child, is a question I cannot answer. Most of us do not even know our own fates until we have met them. Do you think that fair Lúthien had any idea of what her Doom was to be? For many years I believe she expected to live out a full, long life, free of suffering, and then return to her mother's land. But as soon as she chanced to run into Beren I have no doubt that her fate was laid clearly in front of her." He stood behind her now, and spoke with an added tenderness in his voice. "You will know your fate when it is presented to you."  
  
She turned to him then, framed against the setting sun with hints of tears in her eyes. "Thank you," she said. "Thank you, for everything."  
  
* * *  
  
A few moments later, Argalen walked through a main archway, which opened right out onto the wharf, with the bag she had been packing slung over her shoulder. A group of about ten elves were busy on the nearest ship, securing some additional packages and such. She caught the sight of one.  
  
"Well, there you are," said a tall Elf, coming down to her from the ship's deck, his Telerin features obvious. "We were worried you wouldn't show up."  
  
"Mae govannen, Galdor," she smiled up to him, as he relieved her of her bag, and handed it to another Elf. "You should've known better than to assume I would back out at the last possible minute. I take it everything is ready?"  
  
"As ready as it will be," the Elf replied. "We're just waiting for Círdan to give us the final word and then we raise anchor." He looked at her, though she seemed to be concentrating on the goings-on occurring on the deck. "Are you all right?" he asked.  
  
She looked up at him. "I'm fine," she said. "Why do you ask?"  
  
Just as he was about to speak, Círdan emerged from the archway, carrying a medium-sized envelope in his hand, which he turned over to Galdor wordlessly, though his eyes spoke for him. As he turned to step off the platform, the aged Elf held Argalen's glance, and quietly whispered, "Namarië."  
  
She returned the gesture, and then the small crew began to raise sail. As the ship was being drawn out further into the gulf, Círdan raised his hand in farewell, bidding the ship safe-journey, and the two Elves stood side-by-side one another in the growing darkness. 


	2. The Sundering Seas

The time spent on the ship passed uneventfully. Port side, the shore line came and went, again and again, while to their starboard side the Sea steadily churned, unchanging in its ancient ways. For the most part the weather was bearable: the rain was minute, and storms were rare. The days were often windy, which kept them comfortably cool.  
  
There was nothing much for Argalen to do onboard, as far as work went. The small craft was maintained easily enough by it's crew, and Argalen was simply acting as a passenger. She spent much of her time sketching the never changing sea-scape, or catching up on her lore with the few books that were kept below decks. Sometimes she would talk with Galdor, or one of the other elves about a variety of different subjects. But more often than not, she would stay in solitude, thinking things over.  
  
It was one of those nights when, as she stood leaning on the gunwale in the breezy, starlit darkness, that Galdor came up from below, hoping to talk to her. As he walked up, she turned to greet him.  
  
"Hello, Galdor," she said. "May I ask what it takes to bring you out there, at this time of night?" she smiled.  
  
"Oh, nothing much," he answered, joining her near some rigging. "Just the need of a lonely friend, when I recognize it." He looked at her, and as he spoke he noticed her expression sadden. "You haven't been yourself at all lately, Argalen. I wish you would tell me what the problem is. I'm here to help."  
  
She looked at him as she would a brother, and then noticed the seriousness in his eyes. Argalen sighed, "I'm no longer the elf I was, Galdor. We may be long-lived, but all the sorrows of Middle-earth are taking their toll on me. I have no real reason to remain here, with no parents or any other living kin. The only thing that keeps me from going West is . . ." Her voice trailed off into nothing. "I don't know what."  
  
"Maybe," he began to suggest, "you stay because the people here care so much for you?"  
  
"Galdor --"  
  
"No, I'm serious. So many have taken you in and cared for you because of who you are and not because they feel obligated towards your father. You really mean a lot, to a lot of people, Argalen, though you may not see it, yet." He looked at her, hoping to see some acknowledgment.  
  
She stood quiet for a moment, and then began to speak. "Do you really expect me to believe that?"  
"I believe it."  
  
Argalen looked down into the water, seeming defeated. "I know you do," she said, leaning onto his shoulder. "I know."  
  
The two stood together for a while, silently, with the feeling that the slightest sound above the gentle lapping of the waves upon the hull would break that perfect moment of tranquility. After about an hour or so, Galdor began to speak. "Argalen, do you remember the first time we met, when you arrived at the Havens?"  
  
Standing with her head rested on his shoulder, she sighed. "I do. It was such a long time ago, and I was so young, but I remember it perfectly. Elrond had just returned with the remnants of the Last Alliance, and with tidings of what had happened to my father. My mother died, from the pain it left her with. I remember that Elrond felt that it was still too dangerous for me to be living that far east in those days, being that I was the only child of Gil-galad, not to mention the last full-blooded descendant of Finwë."  
  
She stopped for a moment, and breathed in the heavy salt air, trying to ease her tension. Then she started to speak again. "Since it was so unsafe for me there, in Rivendell, he thought it'd be best if I went someplace more secure, which is why he sent me to Mithlond. After all, if there were a sudden emergency I could easily be placed aboard a ship and be spared. Of course, because of my age I couldn't make the journey by myself, so he had Glorfindel take me, as an escort. We were in no particular hurry, and so we got to know each other quite well while we were out on the road. He was the one who taught me how to ride horseback, and the first to have me use a sword.  
  
"But once we did reach the Havens I remember feeling so alone. There were all older elves there, no one near my own age. And whenever a new group came it was just to board the ships to Valinor. Círdan was there, but his age made it hard for such a young elf to connect with him, and he was often pre-occupied trying to maintain order with the departures, and such.  
  
"And then I met you. You were still older than I was, but you were the closest one to my age. You made me feel so welcome and comfortable; I finally had someone I felt I could talk to, that would understand me." Then Argalen looked up at him, the tears forming at the corners of her eyes blurring the already dark setting. "I'm glad you were there for me, Galdor," she said. "I don't know what I would've done without you."  
  
As Argalen turned and collapsed into him, Galdor wrapped his arms around his friend, trying to console her. He had stood there listening, while she told him things that had never been spoken by her lips before. He couldn't offer much, but he could give her the relief of getting her feelings out in the open. All he could do was be there.  
  
* * *  
  
Late next morning, Argalen awoke in her quarters and breathed in the damp ocean air. She had stayed out with Galdor most of the previous night, though much of the time was spent in silence.  
  
She had expected it to be another quiet, uneventful day onboard the ship, but as she emerged from the sub-levels onto the main deck she saw that the whole crew seemed to be busy rushing about. She also noted that they had weighed anchor, and a smaller vessel was being lowered into the water. There was a group of elves standing on the nearby shore.  
  
"Nimros!" she called over to one of the elves, who helped in navigating the ship. "What is happening?"  
  
The elf informed her, as he continued to tie down the main sail. "Early this morning we were hailed by those elves that you see on the land. We weren't sure who they were at first, in the thick fog, but their fires and clear voices led us to believe that they were one of the Wandering Companies, Gildor's folk, it turns out. They seem to have some urgent news to deliver us, concerning our present course. Galdor is going to them now, to learn what he may. Tirnen and Luinfalas go with him."  
  
Argalen looked over and saw Galdor heading towards the gunwale. Hoping to find out more, she called to him.  
  
"Stay here, Argalen," he replied. "I will return shortly. We'll talk then." As he lowered himself into the boat she thought she caught a slight glimpse of irritance in his eye.  
  
Something's wrong, she thought. Why would one of the Wandering Companies hail us ashore? and why is it affecting Galdor this way?  
  
She knew the two were related, but didn't know how. She also couldn't figure out what Galdor had meant when he said he'd 'talk to her later'. Did this all concern her, and if it did, how did he know?  
  
She moved to the prow, to see if perhaps she could get a better view of all the goings-on, but as the three ship-mates reached dry land she realized that they were too far for her to read their expressions, or their lips; and sound did not travel well on the sea-breeze.  
  
Not that it would've helped, anyway. Soon afterwards, they left the boat and moved further inland, to an area with some coverage provided by the trees. Now they were in the shadows, and as best as she could tell their backs were facing her.  
  
She stood there, hour upon hour, waiting for some sign or another that would signify what was going on. She had only gone down to the galley once to eat, after Nimros had practically begged her to go, though she was only down there for a short time.  
  
It was sometime in the mid-afternoon when Argalen had received her first sign of anything: the boat, with all three elves aboard, was returning to the ship. She began to back away from the prow, and headed towards the port side, to aid the others in their re-boarding. The three were shortly back on deck, and seemed to be resettling when Galdor took Argalen by her arm and drew her aside.  
  
She was concerned about the way he was acting; it wasn't like him at all. "Galdor, what is it?" she asked. "What's going on?"  
  
"You'll find out soon enough," he said. "Right now I need you to come with me."  
  
She looked at him, confused. "Go with you? Where?"  
  
"I'm going back to Gildor," he stated. "What he has to say directly concerns you."  
  
She stared blankly at him.  
  
"Me?" 


	3. A Slight Detour

"Me?" she repeated, as if the thought weren't registering correctly. "Me? What do you mean it concerns me? I want to know what's going on, and I want to know now!"  
  
"Calm down, Argalen! Don't get so upset." He took her shoulders and began to massage them, trying to soothe her. "I already told you, you'll find out soon."  
  
"Find out what?"  
  
"Once we get back to the shore, Gildor will tell you everything you want to know. I wanted you to hear everything from him first, to prevent any misinterpretations that might've come up otherwise." He drew her closer, and held his friend. "Don't worry. I know you're going through some hard times and are confused right now, but believe me: it'll be all right. Right now I just need you to come with me, and hear what Gildor has to say. Okay?"  
  
She pulled herself from his grasp and wiped small tears from the corners of her eyes. "Okay, Galdor," she said. "I'll go."  
  
* * *  
  
The small boat was still in the water, waiting for them. Galdor was already in it, steadying the craft as Argalen lowered herself down. The fog from that morning had mostly dissipated by now, and the water was calm, making rowing for the two less strenuous than it might've been.  
  
As they neared the shore Argalen saw a tall elf standing with his foot propped up on a rock, ready to greet them. Gildor, she thought. The two had met each other many times before, both while she was staying in Imladris for a time, and also on the road to the Havens. It had been nearly 60 years since their last encounter, and she had missed him.  
  
They pulled up onto the rocky beach, and Gildor came out further. "Welcome back, Galdor," he said. He offered his hand to Argalen and helped her out of the boat. "And you, Argalen. It's been quite sometime since I've seen you."  
  
"Indeed, it has been long," she replied. "Although, I would like to know what the circumstances are which have brought us together."  
  
"I do not doubt that you do. But talk of said matters must not be held in such open areas. Let us go a bit further inland, at least to the protection of the trees. There you may learn what you wish to know." He led them up the bank and towards a slightly wooded area, where a few boulders that were lying about offered them a place to sit. Once they were settled Gildor began to explain.  
  
"As you know, I've been leading departing companies of elves from Rivendell to the Grey Havens for many a year. Just recently I had escorted one such group to Mithlond, when I received word that Círdan wished to speak with me. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, as I am often given messages to relay, so of course I went to see him.  
  
"When I met up with him he gave me some tidings to take back to Lord Elrond, but then me made a special request. He told me that he had sent you two out onboard an errand ship, with a message for the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood. He asked if I would perhaps keep a look out for your ship, and pass on any news I might come across while traveling that might concern you. Naturally, I agreed.  
  
"I admit, I did not fully expect to meet up with you, much less have any information to pass on. However, not long after I had passed the Tower Hills on my way back to Rivendell I happened upon a group of Dunedain, Rangers of the North. From them I learned tidings that would not only concern you, but could very well destroy you. I knew I had to go out of my way to find you.  
  
"Círdan did not tell me what the message was you were carrying, but he did tell me which course you were planning to take: to pass the Belfalas after Dol Amroth and row up the Anduin, through Ithilien and Rohan, and past the Undeeps. I tell you now, you cannot take that voyage."  
  
"You warned me of the peril of such a way, earlier," Galdor began. "Yet you did not speak fully. Tell us: what exactly has happened that has made our route impassable?"  
  
Gildor continued, "From the Rangers I learned that the southward passages were no longer safe for any to travel. Osgiliath is becoming dangerous, as the war between Gondor and Mordor grows more fierce everyday. Luckily the city has not fallen yet, but who know when that may happen? That is not all, however. If the battle over Osgiliath is a storm then the one further south is like a hurricane. Going to Pelargir would be nothing short of suicide."  
  
They were all quiet for a moment, taking in the information and trying to analyze it. At last Galdor spoke. "So indeed, the way up the Anduin is closed to us, and we must find a new path." He stood and walked a bit, recalling to mind the geography of the area. "I suppose we could head up one of the other smaller rivers, perhaps the Gilrain, or even the Ringlo, (we'd pass through Edhellond, it'd be safe there). From there we can head over the Ered Nimrais, and reach the Anduin through the Mouths of Entwash."  
  
Nearby Gildor shook his head at the idea. "I'm afraid that won't do. Crossing the White Mountains, especially during this time of year, would hinder you more than help. And after that you'd be left to face the fields of Anorien. Your provisions will not last that long. There must be some other way."  
  
After sitting quietly, thinking to herself for sometime, Argalen spoke up. "Where are we?" she asked.  
  
The two others looked over at her, not quite understanding the question. "Are you all right?" asked Gildor. "Is something the matter?"  
  
"I'm fine," she said, getting up. "I'm just trying to figure out exactly where we are right now. If I'm not mistaken, I believe we passed the Greyflood a day or two ago. Am I right, Galdor?"  
  
"Yes, I think so," he answered slowly, not understanding where this was leading.  
  
"But what does that matter?" asked Gildor. "The Gwathlo would only take you to Rivendell, and from here it is even further than Lothlórien."  
  
"Yes, you are right," replied Argalen. "I'm not, however, thinking about traveling the Greyflood, but the Isen. We shouldn't be that far from it, and since it's on the way to Dol Amroth the others would still arrive there when they intended. We can cut through the Gap of Rohan and then on through Fangorn."  
  
"Hmm, I suppose taking the Angren upstream would prove the best path," said Galdor. "I'm just not sure about going through Fangorn. The Forest is a dangerous region, even for elves, and its been a long time since any of our people have traveled within it's borders. Perhaps going around Fangorn and through the Wold would be easier?"  
  
Now Gildor spoke up. "It would no doubt be easier, but it would be taking you out of your way, and into the lands of the Rohirrim. They themselves are safe, but I think it best if you two be seen as little as possible. And who knows, you may make it through the Forest without any sign of the Ents at all. They are a relatively scarce race, and the wood is large. Yet if you did meet up with one I do not believe you will be in any harm.  
  
"Of course, I cannot be too sure, as my business keeps me west of the mountains."  
  
"However, I have traveled through Fangorn," remarked Argalen.  
  
"You have?" Galdor asked. "In all the years I have known you I have never heard that. Why didn't you tell me?"  
  
"I never had a reason to tell you. Anyway, I was living in Lórien at the time, and a few of the border guards who were teaching me various skills would take me out into Fangorn on occasion, to 'test' me, so to speak. I know my way through. We should have no trouble getting across."  
  
"Besides," Argalen stated, "I can find no better path for us."  
  
"Perhaps because there is no other path to find," remarked Gildor. "It seems clear to me that the Isen is the only road open to you, and it is that way you must take."  
  
Galdor sighed. "You are right, my friend. It is the only road. Yet I wonder how long such a journey would take?"  
  
"I deem it would take no longer than the route previously laid out. While the Isen is still large, it is not quite as big, or as powerful a river as Anduin, and we can now avoid the Falls of Rauros altogether. It also cuts through, rather than taking us around the White Mountains. Unless we are delayed in the Forest we should lose no time at all. Indeed, if we're lucky we might even arrive earlier than expected." Argalen sat back on her stone. "All we have to do now is go."  
  
* * *  
  
They stayed within the shelter of the trees for quite some time, finalizing their new plans. Scouts were sent out, and no longer than a few hours later were returning with their findings: the Isen was only a few leagues away. They could gain access to it from where they were without having to reboard their ship.  
  
While they were talking they were brought food and drink, as the hours had been tiring. The sun was now making its descent, and as the sky continued to darken they prepared to set out. Their packs had been sent for, and the light craft that they would take was now laden with enough provisions for their journey. It was time for them to depart.  
  
"We wish you safe passage on your way," Gildor spoke, as he led the two out of the trees and back into the clear, where their boat rested on the grass, awaiting them.  
  
"Unfortunately, I myself cannot accompany you to the Isen. However, Ionwë here was one of the scouts sent out, and he will show you the way to the river." He stopped, and looked at them.  
  
"May the Valar keep you, wherever the path may take you, until we meet again." 


End file.
